


Nollaig Shona Duit

by liggytheauthoress



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: Asexual Relationship, M/M, SURPRISE LAST MINUTE CHRISTMAS FLUFF, Twincest, because i have no self-control, spoiler alert it kind've sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:37:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liggytheauthoress/pseuds/liggytheauthoress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drabble about Connor and Murphy's first Christmas in America.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nollaig Shona Duit

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I was going to be able to resist the urge to write the dreaded Christmas fluff this year, but no such luck. Also I realized AFTER writing it that it's not canon-compliant with my other Christmas fluff but I also realized I didn't actually care. oops?

Their first Christmas in America is a subdued one in contrast with the family gatherings they’d attended with Ma as kids. They don’t really decorate - no tree or lights or anything - but Murphy makes sure to hang a sprig of mistletoe over the door.

Connor teases him about it but is secretly more than happy to get caught underneath it with his brother. Which happens often, since they’ve both suddenly developed a tendency to loiter there in order to “accidentally” end up in the doorway with each other. Accidentally.

They spend Christmas Eve at McGinty’s, surrounded by friends, and not even Rocco can dampen Connor’s holiday cheer. Almost everyone buys at least one round for the entire bar and by the end of the night they’re all comfortably intoxicated and singing Christmas carols loudly and slightly off-key, and every time Connor looks over at his twin, he thinks privately to himself that Murphy, face flushed and eyes shining, looks like a fucking angel.

There’s no heat in the flat, so when they go to bed they just curl up together on Murphy’s mattress, huddled close under the blankets, and despite the heavy snowfall outside, Connor, with his precious twin nestled against his chest, is perfectly warm.

He presses a kiss to Murphy’s hair and can feel the darker twin smile against his collarbone. “What’re you smirkin’ about?”

“Nothin’,” comes Murphy’s reply. “Just happy.”

“Drunk is more like it.”

Murphy snorts. “Look who’s talkin’.” He lightly headbutts Connor in the chest before snuggling back against him and sighing contentedly. “Con?”

“Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas.”

Connor smiles softly, kissing the top of his brother’s head again, and murmurs, “Merry Christmas, Murph.”

And even though the flat is cold and relatively bare, even though they didn’t get each other gifts to open in the morning, even though they’re thousands of miles from Ireland and Ma and home, Connor is disgustingly happy. Because there’s a sleepy, dozing Murphy in his arms, his breath warming Connor’s neck, and that’s all Connor has ever needed.

 


End file.
